


Closing the Distance

by molly2012



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molly2012/pseuds/molly2012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Heat' by Zivacentric. After spending a life-changing month in Israel with Ziva, Jenny is preparing for Ziva to visit her in Washington DC. But two weeks isn't long to spend with someone special - will they have to say goodbye again or will they find another way? Setting is pre-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Heat](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/21968) by Zivacentric. 



> This story is a sequel to 'Heat', written by the amazing Zivacentric. It can be read on its own, but certainly this first chapter will make the most sense if you read Heat first - plus I would recommend it anyway, it's a fantastic story! It can be found here - http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7309996/1/Heat. 
> 
> Massive thanks to ZC for allowing me to play in her sandbox :).

Jenny Shepard waited impatiently as the elevator clanked its way up from the ground floor, tapping her fingers on the large leather handbag that was slung over her shoulder. The maintenance that was supposed to have been done over the weekend seemed to have actually made things worse, and she began to wish she had taken the stairs. At this rate, she would be lucky to make it to her desk by nine although, she thought, as she adjusted her grey jacket, it wasn’t as if she had that much to do when she got there. The week since her return from Israel had been a quiet one, for which she was grateful, but now she was beginning to wish for something, anything, to make the coming week go a bit quicker. The snail-like pace of the elevator was not a good omen.

 

Finally alighting on the second floor, Jenny swiftly crossed the open plan office and headed towards the counter-terrorism section where her desk, a half-finished report and a half-empty coffee cup from last night awaited her. Disposing of the cup in the nearest bin, she shrugged out of her jacket and flicked the switch on the back of the computer, waiting until the monitor wheezed into life before she sat down. Then, as she had done every morning for the past week, she opened the top drawer of her desk to reveal a jumble of personal items – tissues, odd bits of make up, an old magazine – and picked out a single photo from the haphazard pile. She was still gazing at it two minutes later, a small smile on her face, when a beep from her computer indicated that her emails had finished downloading.

 

‘Hmmm, foxy’.

 

Jenny jumped at the sound of the appreciative voice beside her ear, and threw the photo back into the drawer, closing it with a decisive slam. Spinning around on her chair, she glared at the tall, dark-haired man who was standing close behind her and grinning at her reaction.

 

‘Piss off, Decker’.

 

The smile just grew wider.

 

‘And back off’. Jenny swung back round to face her computer. ‘There is such a thing as personal space, and you’re dangerously close to invading it’.

 

She didn’t have to look behind her to know that he hadn’t moved, and she smirked to herself. This was how it was with William Decker. Banter, teasing, playfights....until things got serious in the field. Then, she knew, he would have her back covered, and she would do the same for him.

 

‘So who is she?’ Decker, instead of moving further away, simply turned round to perch on the edge of Jenny’s desk, unwrapping a greasy package as he did so. It smelled suspiciously like a breakfast burrito from the canteen, and Jenny wrinkled her nose as he took a large, enthusiastic bite.

 

‘Do you have to?’

 

‘Bre-fah. Bain nee ood’.

 

Jenny raised her eyebrows as Decker attempted to speak through a mouthful of rubbery sausage and egg. Seeing her look, he swallowed hard and took a breath before translating his previous words.

 

‘It’s breakfast. Brain food. You should try it’.

 

‘My brain works perfectly well without that crap, thank you’.

 

‘So she’s the Mossad agent?’

 

Jenny sighed and leaned back in her chair, turning slightly to face him and realising that he didn’t seem to be in the mood to give up. In many ways, she counted herself lucky that she hadn’t been given the third degree until now. Decker was, unsurprisingly, curious about how her assignment abroad had gone, and what she had done with the month of leave she had unexpectedly taken afterwards. But he had obviously decided to give her a break for her first week back, until he considered that a reasonable amount of time had elapsed.

 

‘Yes. We worked together on the mission in Cairo. Satisfied?’

 

‘Nope’. Decker finished his so-called breakfast, and Jenny scowled as he lobbed the wrapper into her bin. ‘Doesn’t explain why you have that photo. Or why you look at it like a lovestruck teenager every day’.

 

Jenny’s scowl turned into a murderous glare that would have served to warn anyone else that they were approaching an invisible line, and that it might be safest not to cross it. Decker, however, merely gave her a mildly inquisitive look before gesturing to the delicate gold necklace that hung underneath the collar of her green blouse.

 

‘And that’.

 

‘What about it?’

 

Jenny instinctively raised her hand to the tiny Star of David pendant, and groaned inwardly as she saw the smugly satisfied look on his face.

 

‘She gave it to you’.

 

It wasn’t a question, and Jenny sighed, shaking her head. Once Decker got going there was no putting him off.

 

‘Yes, she gave it to me. Are you happy now?’

 

Decker nodded and pushed himself off the desk, smirking down at his partner as he headed back to his own place opposite.  

 

‘For now’.

 

Jenny returned to her computer screen, unwilling to let Decker see the smile that was creeping around her lips as she thought about the woman in the photo. Ziva David had come into her life when she was least expecting it, had turned her upside down and inside out, and left Jenny reeling from emotions that she had never known it was possible to feel. They had worked together seamlessly on their joint operation in Cairo, and connected intimately as lovers for the month afterwards when Jenny had stayed in Israel. It had been the happiest few weeks that she could remember, and leaving had been one of the hardest things she had ever had to do.

 

Now, though, she had only five more days until Ziva was due to visit Washington, and they would have another two weeks together. Jenny’s smile grew broader as she realised that soon she would stop counting the days and would be counting the hours instead, waiting for Ziva to step off the plane. Email and telephone conversations, she had decided, just weren’t the same.

 

 Pulling the folder containing the report towards her, she thought it was maybe just as well if she had another reasonably quiet week. It would give her time to plan and daydream about what she hoped would be a special few days.

 

* * *

 

‘Shit’.

 

Decker’s curse earned him a glare from the NCIS Director and a raised eyebrow from Jenny, although privately she didn’t think she could have put it any better herself. She and Decker had returned from their separate lunches to find old mission reports stacked up on their desks, and the Director in the middle of writing a scribbled note asking them to start inputting them into the computer system. Just from glancing at the tottering pile, Jenny estimated hers alone would take ten days of solid computer work. Decker, she thought, had it right. _Shit indeed._

‘If you would rather, Agent Decker, there’s an even bigger pile of foreign reports over in storage that need to be sorted and distributed to the relevant regional desks for assessment and inputting. I could always arrange for you to do that instead?’

 

Decker grimaced at the Director, and shook his head. Even a stint of data inputting was better than a trip to the file storage area. Jenny smirked as she remembered the last time he had been down there. He had come back two hours later covered in dust and sneezing.....although she had never been entirely convinced it wasn’t all an act.

 

‘Good’. Director Morrow’s tone was brisk, sharp, leaving Decker in no doubt that he had given the correct answer. ‘In which case, I’ll leave you to it’.

 

As Jenny sat down and gazed at the worn, faded folders in front of her, wondering where on earth to begin, she began to regret her earlier wish for a busier week. Whichever genie she had inadvertently woken up had gone above and beyond the call of duty with this one. She sighed, noticing that Decker was still looking mutinous, but pulled the top folder towards her and opened it reluctantly. There was nothing for it but to work through them, and hope something else came along that would require their attention sooner rather than later.

 

This time, unfortunately, her wish did not come true. The only good thing was that she was able to leave the office at a reasonable hour, since the paperwork wasn’t vitally important and did not warrant either her or Decker staying late. They both had their computers switched off and gear collected by six on the dot and, although Jenny was tempted by his offer of a drink and a burger with some of the guys from the case teams, she declined in favour of heading home for an early night. An afternoon spent hunched over folders at her desk had done nothing for her back and shoulders, and, as she said goodbye to her partner at the front entrance and headed towards the car park, she thought that a glass of wine and a hot bath sounded perfect. She didn’t have much food in, but she couldn’t be bothered with grocery shopping tonight. There were times when even a cheese toastie was fine for dinner....and tonight was one of those times.

 

Jenny quickly remembered, however, that the downside of leaving work on time was that everyone else in the city – or so it seemed – was doing the same thing. The roads were snarled with traffic, and the journey that she knew could be done in twenty minutes took her almost an hour and a half. By the time she reached the Georgetown townhouse that was home, she was hungry, irritated, had a headache to match her backache, and was wondering if she shouldn’t have gone with Decker after all.  He would probably have continued his interrogation of her over her time in Israel and her relationship with Ziva, but at least she would have had something halfway decent to eat. And the roads later on would have been far more conducive to actually driving. _Still_ , she thought, slamming the car door and locking it with the remote on the key fob, _too late now_.

 

She was so preoccupied with her nightmare journey that she didn’t notice the light shining from her kitchen window until she was almost at the front door, and she stopped, every nerve suddenly on alert despite her tiredness. She had a housekeeper – Noemie – but she wouldn’t still be here at this time, and she would never have left the kitchen lights blazing. Reaching slowly into her handbag, she pulled out her handgun and rested her other hand on the front door handle. It was unlocked.

 

Her heart pounding, Jenny slipped into the hallway and moved towards the kitchen, thankful for the thick patterned rug on the wooden floor that muffled her footsteps. She felt absurdly panicky. She was an armed federal agent, for God’s sake......but somehow it felt different in your own home, a fact she had not appreciated before. It wasn’t until she was almost at the kitchen door that she registered a sound coming from inside the room, and she paused, her brow furrowed in confusion.

 

Burglars, kidnappers and assassins did not play music as they went about their business, and certainly not her favourite late-night-jazz music. And, now that she had stopped to concentrate for a moment, she detected a wonderful smell coming from the same place. Burglars, kidnappers and assassins did not stop to cook themselves dinner, either. But if it wasn’t a burglar, kidnapper or assassin – and, Jenny had to admit, any of those would probably have been pretty unlikely – she had no idea who it could be. She quietly pushed open the door to the kitchen, her gun raised just in case, but she almost dropped it in shock at the sight in front of her.

 

The table in the centre of the large, well-equipped kitchen was laid for two, with glasses of wine already poured and a small bouquet of burnt-orange roses in a clear glass vase placed on one side. The music that had been so faint in the hallway was slightly louder in here, but not so loud that Jenny missed the sound of the fridge door opening and closing in the corner. She swung round, and her mouth dropped open.

 

‘What the hell......?’

 

‘Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but understandable’.

 

The dark haired woman turned around, a bag of tomatoes in her hand, and Jenny was faced with the same slow, sexy smile and warm brown eyes that had reduced her knees to jelly the first time she had seen them at Ben Gurion airport in Israel almost six weeks before. Tonight, caught off guard again, they were having exactly the same effect.

 

‘I would put that down before you drop it’. Ziva gestured to Jenny’s gun with an amused twinkle. ‘And Jen....?’

 

It was all Jenny could do to raise one eyebrow. She didn’t trust herself to speak, and it seemed her legs were incapable of carrying her anywhere at the moment.

 

‘You need to go shopping’.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

‘I suppose it’s hopeless asking you how you got in?’

 

Jenny reached over and traced the line of Ziva’s cheekbone as she asked the question, a hint of amusement in her green eyes, but Ziva simply responded by taking her hand and gently, but firmly, pinning it to the closed door of the kitchen as she leaned in for another kiss. Her warm, strong body pressed Jenny back against the wood, and Jenny felt herself responding eagerly once more to her lover’s lips on hers. She had been trapped in between Ziva and the door for a good half hour – ever since she had returned home to find the Israeli in her kitchen – but, she thought, there was nowhere else she would rather be at that precise moment. It had only been a few days, but she had really missed Ziva. And, it seemed, from her early arrival and her unwillingness to let Jenny go, that Ziva had missed her too.

 

‘Mmm’.

 

Jenny moaned softly in pleasure as Ziva deepened the kiss, her tongue darting out teasingly to catch Jenny’s, her free hand tangling itself in Jenny’s hair, but pleasure quickly turned to protest as the other woman pulled away slowly and let Jenny’s hand drop from the door.

 

She chuckled at Jenny’s reaction.

 

‘I never reveal trade secrets’.

 

The murmured voice in Jenny’s ear was enough to make her knees feel funny again and she went to grasp Ziva’ s arm, intending to pull her back and carry on where they had just left off, but Ziva had slipped out of reach and was already headed back towards the kitchen counter where a salad was in progress.

 

‘Do you not want dinner?’

 

Jenny sighed and adjusted her blouse. Whatever Ziva had found to cook did smell wonderful – and she realised that she was hungry. Walking over to the table, she picked up the glasses of wine and placed one on the counter in front of Ziva as she continued preparing the salad, dropping a kiss on Ziva’s neck as she did so.

 

‘It smells amazing.  But you really didn’t have to….and I’m surprised you found anything to cook’.

 

Ziva smiled as she chopped tomatoes.

 

‘It was…..challenging’, she admitted, her eyes twinkling. ‘But it was the least I could do, after turning up early.’

 

‘I’m very glad you did come early’.

 

‘Really?’

 

Ziva sounded slightly worried, and Jenny smiled.

 

‘Really’, she confirmed.

 

‘I did think that maybe it would not be a good idea to come unannounced, but then I found I was missing you. Badly. And I wanted to surprise you’.

 

‘I was missing you too. Although it’s maybe a good thing you were playing music in here, otherwise you might have been shot as a burglar’.

 

Ziva laughed, and Jenny thought how much she loved the sound. Leaning back against the counter, she took a sip of her wine as she watched Ziva toss the last of the tomatoes into the salad bowl, and impulsively reached over to brush back a stray curl that had fallen out of Ziva’s ponytail.

 

‘When did you arrive?’

 

‘My flight landed late this morning’. Ziva wiped her hands on a cloth and picked up her wine. ‘I believe you call it a red-eye, yes?’

 

‘Red-eye’s an early morning flight. You flew overnight?’

 

‘Yes, but I still had red eyes’.

 

Jenny placed two fingers under Ziva’s chin and turned her head round so that she could inspect any redness, but shook her head, her expression playful.

 

‘No, can’t see it’.

 

‘That is because it is now evening’.

 

Jenny chuckled at Ziva’s decisive explanation.

 

‘Fair enough. And how exactly did you……?’

 

‘I picked the lock and then guessed the code on your alarm system’. Ziva gave Jenny a slightly reproving look. ‘You should change it to something a little less obvious’.

 

‘My father’s birthday backwards is obvious?’

 

‘It is to anyone who knows you’.

 

‘Usually people who know me don’t break in, and therefore don’t need to switch the alarm off’.

 

Ziva grinned at Jenny’s indignant defence before moving deftly around her towards the oven.

 

‘This should be ready now’.

 

Jenny sniffed appreciatively as a blast of heat and the sound of sizzling cheese wafted across to her from the open oven door, and she smiled in delight as she realised what Ziva had managed to make.

 

‘You made macaroni and cheese?’

 

‘It was all I could find. Tomorrow…..’ Ziva placed the oven dish down on the centre of the table with a flourish, ‘Tomorrow I am going shopping’.

 

The simple dinner was delicious. As they ate, and talked, and filled up their glasses, and talked more, Jenny marvelled at how easy they were with each other, how naturally they seemed to fit together. When the conversation paused, the silences were never uncomfortable. It was almost as if they had been together for years – but the little tingle that she felt every time Ziva’s hand brushed against hers told her that that was not the case. She couldn’t quite believe that she had her here, all to herself, for over two weeks......but she fully intended to make the most of it.

 

‘You are still wearing it’.

 

They had finished their meal and cleared away their plates, and were sat back down at the table with the last of the wine when Ziva’s quiet comment broke across Jenny’s thoughts. She looked over to see Ziva nodding towards the Star of David necklace around her neck.

 

‘Of course’. Jenny reached up to touch it again, as she had done so often over the past week. ‘It reminds me of you. I wear it all the time. But here’.

 

She reached behind her neck to unfasten it.

 

‘You should have it back’.

 

Ziva shook her head, and held out her hand to stop Jenny taking the necklace off.

 

‘I can’t keep it!’ Jenny’s protest fell on deaf ears as Ziva got up from her chair and walked round behind Jenny, her agile fingers taking the clasp and doing it back up quickly. Her hands rested on Jenny’s shoulders as she leaned down to speak softly in Jenny’s ear.

 

‘Yes, you can. For now, anyway’.

 

Jenny twisted round in her seat, ready to argue some more, but she was cut off before she had even begun by Ziva’s lips on hers. When they finally pulled apart, she felt a warmth pool in her stomach at the flirtatious look in Ziva’s eyes.

 

‘I will maybe take it off you later’.

 

She reached over and took a mouthful of the wine that was left in Jenny’s glass, her gaze never leaving Jenny’s as a sexy, slightly challenging smile played around her lips.

 

‘After I have taken everything else off, that is’.

 

Jenny took a sharp, deep breath as she felt the warmth in her stomach sink slightly lower at Ziva’s words, and she reached up and took the wine glass from her hand, placing it well out of the way on the table next to the vase of roses. Beautifully fragrant, a dark reddish-orange….. _desire._ Jenny thought she had read something once that orange roses signified desire, and the thought made her shiver a little with excitement.

 

‘So…..’

 

She stood up, slowly turning to face Ziva as she did so.

 

‘What are you waiting for?’

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

By some miracle, Jenny made it into work on time the next day. She had not wanted to go at all, and the only reason she had not called in sick was that Ziva had claimed she needed some time shopping without Jenny there, since she intended to surprise her once again with dinner later. As she waited for the elevator to make its painfully slow ascent to the second floor, she was grateful that no one else was in there with her. She had been thinking about Ziva - and about last night - ever since she had left home that morning, and knew the satisfied, slightly delirious smile on her face made it obvious for the whole world to see.

 

Unfortunately, she had temporarily forgotten that the whole world included Decker, and she hadn’t quite managed to clear all traces of the give-away smirk from her face by the time she reached her desk. He looked up from his computer screen to say hello, but instead his mouth opened in a broad, delighted grin, and he leaned back in his chair.

 

‘You had sex last night’.

 

‘Good morning to you too’.

 

Jenny’s reply was breezy as she switched on her own machine and took off her coat. It had been colder that morning – cold enough to dig out the dark brown trench that she had bought in the sale last year. The memory of Ziva slipping her hands underneath it as they had said goodbye in the hallway that morning brought a fresh sparkle to Jenny’s green eyes, and it was one that Decker didn’t miss.

 

‘Who?’

 

Jenny just raised her eyebrows. She was in the mood to tease him.

 

‘Jealous?’

 

‘Well, that depends on who it is’.  Decker leaned forward, his brow furrowed. ‘A random?’

 

‘Please’. Jenny wrinkled her nose. ‘Give me some credit’.

 

‘Point taken. Well, it can’t be the Israeli…..’ Decker mused to himself for a moment, and then looked up, his eyes wide.

 

‘You haven’t looked at that photo yet this morning’.

 

‘So?’

 

Jenny knew her deadpan expression was not fooling her colleague, and, sure enough, Decker’s mouth dropped open slightly as he tried not to make his surprise known to the rest of the room.

 

‘In which case, I am jealous’. He leaned forward, his wide smile back now that he had recovered his voice. ‘And I want details’.

 

Jenny lobbed a screwed up piece of paper that had been destined for the bin, and it hit him square on the forehead.

 

‘No details. No descriptions, no discussions. And no, you are not coming over for dinner tonight’.

 

Decker lobbed the ball of paper back at her, but missed by a good margin and Jenny smirked at his feigned look of petulence.

 

‘You enjoy spoiling my fun, don’t you?’

 

‘Sorry to interrupt this little playfight…..’

 

Both Decker and Jenny jumped as Director Morrow approached their desks. His slightly sarcastic tone and serious expression indicated that he had come for more than a progress report on the old case files that they were meant to be inputting.

 

‘But I need the two of you in my office. Now’.

 

As they stood to follow him back to his office, Jenny felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Now that Ziva was here, she had actually started to look forward to a few days of paperwork. Paperwork meant longer lunch breaks – mostly to be spent with Ziva – and finishing work on time so that the whole evening could also be spent with Ziva. A case would mean neither of those things, and she just hoped it was nothing major that needed their attention.

 

‘We have a situation’.

 

Director Morrow’s announcement echoed around the large office, and Jenny and Decker exchanged glances. ‘Situations’ were never good. Sitting next to Decker and across the desk from the Director, Jenny waited to see what, precisely, this situation was, and hoped that neither of the men in the room noticed her crossing her fingers surreptitiously by her side.

 

‘How much do you know about Egyptian Islamic Jihad?’

 

Morrow’s question took Jenny by surprise, but she gathered her wits enough to answer.

 

‘Terrorist organisation, closely affiliated to al-Qaeda. In exile from Egypt, operates out of Pakistan, Afghanistan and, uh....Sudan. Mostly.’

 

Morrow nodded. ‘So closely affiliated it’s now, to all intents and purposes, considered part of al-Qaeda. And responsible for a number of attacks on American personel abroad. In 1995 the group bombed the Egyptian embassy in Islamabad’.

 

Jenny nodded. It had happened before she joined the counter-terrorism branch of NCIS, but she remembered hearing about it.

 

‘It was the prototype, if you like, for the truck bombs that hit our embassies in Africa three years later’.

 

Dar es Salaam, Nairobi.....hundreds dead, hundreds more injured. Jenny shuddered. That was the day Bin Laden had been pinned to every US federal agency’s Most Wanted board, where he still remained.

 

Jenny saw Decker raise his eyebrows.

 

‘So what’s the situation?’

 

Morrow looked grave as he leaned forward in his chair.

 

‘This doesn’t go beyond this room’.

 

They both nodded. It really went without saying, but it was obviously serious enough for Morrow to need to reiterate the point.

 

‘Good’. He paused. ‘We have a defector – for want of a better word. A man walked into the embassy in Islamabad and declared himself to be a fighter for EIJ. He requested asylum in the US in exchange for information – supposedly, he has knowledge regarding others who were involved in those bombings. He also – and this is the point here – claims to have information on plans for an attack on the US fleet in the Mediterranean’.

 

‘And we’ve been stupid enough to believe him? He just wants a free ticket!’

 

Decker apparently couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

 

‘He has not been granted anything yet’.

 

‘There’s no indication that the threat level in the Med has increased’. Decker folded his arms as he prepared to argue his point. ‘No uptake in chatter. Nothing from our agents, or from anyone else’s. If there was an attack being planned imminently, we would have heard something’.

 

‘That may well be’. Morrow conceded the point with a tilt of his head. ‘But we can’t afford to ignore it, and anyway, whether or not it’s true, he will have significant information that we need. We’ve got him for the moment but the CIA are….well. Impatient’.

 

‘And why has he turned himself over to us?’ It appeared Decker was just getting warmed up. ‘We’re the infidel, the Wicked Witch of the West. Why walk into the American embassy? Why not France? Australia?’

 

Morrow held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

 

‘Enough, Agent Decker’. He sighed. ‘I do see your point. He claims to never have been a true believer, to have been brainwashed – for want of a better word – as a teenager into fighting for glory, money and a better life for his family. Of course he never got any of it. But, as I said just now, he will have information that we want. For now, that’s what we need to work on and remember. What happens to him afterwards isn’t down to us, anyway. He’ll be passed to the CIA, probably never to be seen again’.

 

Morrow’s attempt at a joke fell flat, since both Jenny and Decker knew it was likely to be the truth disguised as humour. Morrow paused again, looking at each of them in turn.

 

‘He’s on his way here, under armed guard. Should be leaving the airport in Islamabad about now. I want you two to question him. I’ll be present, and you’ll get a translator, obviously. But we need to know what he knows. If there is an attack being planned, we need the intel sooner rather than later. Take the rest of today to prepare. He’ll be here in the morning’.

 

Decker groaned, and Jenny uncrossed her fingers. It obviously wasn’t going to help this time.

 

She knew Ziva would understand the stress and the late nights and the early mornings that went with something like this......and hopefully it would just be for a few days. But two weeks suddenly seemed like a horribly short amount of time and, to Jenny, every minute of it that she spent with Ziva was precious.

 

She wanted as many of those minutes as she could have.

 

* * *

 

 By the time six o’clock came round, Jenny was completely saturated with facts, figures, rumour and speculation, all of it pertaining to Egyptian Islamic Jihad. They had been given a brief biography of their informer – Adom Ekrami – but there was not much to go on. The only details they had been able verify were his birth date, birth place, and the fact that he had joined EIJ aged fifteen along with his two older brothers and had essentially been living in Pakistan ever since, leaving his parents in Cairo. Unsurprisingly, promises of complete cooperation and support from the Pakistani authorities in filling in the gaps had so far come to nothing. Whether they genuinely didn’t know anything more, or whether they were just stalling.......Jenny wasn’t sure. And right now, she decided, she didn’t have the energy left to try and figure it out.

 

‘Did you know ‘Adom’ means ‘receives help from the gods’?’

 

Decker leaned back in his chair as he asked the question, looking thoughtful, as Jenny switched off her computer and reached for her coat, still slung over the back of her chair where she had left it that morning.

 

‘He’ll need it when the CIA get their hands on him’.

 

‘Hmmm’.

 

Decker shook his head, and began to gather together his own gear in preparation for leaving. As Jenny picked up her handbag and headed for the elevator, he fell into step beside her and she could feel his sideways glance. She tried not to smirk.

 

‘Spit it out, Decker’.

 

A sharp ping announced the arrival of the elevator, and Decker waited for Jenny to enter first.

 

‘Any special plans for this evening?’

 

He had tried to sound casual, and failed miserably. Jenny smiled.

 

‘None that you need to know about’.

 

‘Hmmm’. He looked resigned. ‘Well, it was worth a try’.

 

He continued to try all the way down to the ground floor and through the reception area, and, as they left the building and turned into the car park, Jenny was beginning to run out of patience. She was so busy musing on whether to forcibly gag him with her scarf, or whether to just go for broke and hope that it wouldn’t count as murder if they never found a body, that she didn’t notice that he had stopped mid stride, his mouth open in a little ‘o’ of surprise and a blatantly appreciative look on his face.

 

‘Looks like I get to find out your plans after all’.

 

Jenny turned to him, her brow wrinkled.

 

‘What.....?’

 

It was only then that she saw Ziva leaning against the passenger door of her car.

 

‘Hi’.

 

Ziva came forward to meet them, a smile on her face, and Jenny was struck once more by how beautiful she looked, and how gracefully she moved. She was dressed casually, in jeans and a plain shirt underneath her cargo jacket, but somehow she managed to make it look both sexy and classy. Jenny felt a sudden surge of something that she only identified later as pride, and despite the teasing, she was suddenly happy that she could introduce Ziva to her work partner.

 

‘Hi’, she replied, smiling.

 

‘Hi’.

 

Jenny and Ziva pulled apart from their brief kiss and both turned to look at Decker, who was standing watching them with his mouth still slightly open. Jenny grinned, but before she could introduce them Ziva stuck out her hand.

 

‘You must be Agent Decker. Ziva David’.

 

‘William’. Decker took her hand. ‘Will. Bill. Whatever you like, really’.

 

‘Or just Decker’. Jenny interrupted, smirking at her partner. ‘And you might want to roll your tongue back up, it’s in danger of being run over’.

 

Decker had the grace to do as he was told, but didn’t look in the least embarrassed as he turned to Ziva again.

 

‘So. Jenny’s being very coy about your plans for tonight.....’

 

‘That’s because we don’t have any’. Jenny’s voice was firm.

 

‘Actually, we do’.

 

Jenny looked at Ziva in surprise, and saw the twinkle in her brown eyes.

 

‘We do?’

 

‘We do’, Ziva confirmed. ‘That is why I came to meet you. You have a change of clothes in your car, yes?’

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Jenny saw Decker’s eyebrows shoot upwards towards his hairline.

 

‘Of course, but why.....?’

 

‘You will soon see.....but we had better get going’.

 

Decker waved a hand. He knew when he was beaten.....for the moment.

 

‘Enjoy. Nice to meet you, Ziva.’

 

‘You too’. Ziva smiled as she moved back to the passenger door.

 

‘And Jen.....don’t worry about tomorrow. Have fun’.

 

Jenny shook her head as she went to unlock her car, and found it already open. She suspected it had taken Ziva all of ten seconds.

 

‘Yeah’. She turned to Decker, smiling in gratitude at the reassurance. ‘Thanks. Have a good evening yourself’.

 

Decker nodded as he backed away, holding up a hand in a wave and suddenly looking hopeful again.

 

‘Debrief tomorrow?’

 

Jenny shook her head again, laughing as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

 

‘Piss off, Decker’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

‘So do we really have plans tonight?’

Jenny glanced over at Ziva as she pulled out of the NCIS car park and indicated right, but traffic was heavy and, for the moment, there was no gap to move into. Taking advantage of the wait, she reached over and rested a hand on Ziva’s leg, and was rewarded when Ziva took the hand in her own and kissed her fingers one by one. As a result she almost missed it when a car briefly slowed down to let her out, and Ziva chuckled when she swore and jammed her foot on the accelerator.

‘I would not have waited in the first place’.

‘But I will get us there in one piece’. Jenny adjusted her mirror slightly so that the sun was not shining directly in her eyes when she checked behind her. ‘Wherever there is.....?’

‘Patience’. Ziva smiled knowingly.

‘Do I really need a change of clothes?’

‘Yes. I brought something suitable’, Ziva admitted, looking at Jenny’s trouser suit. ‘Although your colleague was....what is the word? Very easy to tease’.

‘Gullible’, Jenny supplied. ‘But I think you made quite an impression’.

She smirked as she remembered the look on Decker’s face as he had spotted Ziva. Goggle-eyed didn’t quite cover it.

‘You do not mind that I came to meet you?’

‘Of course not’. Jenny shot Ziva a quick smile before turning her attention back to the road. ‘I’m glad you did. It’s not been the easiest day, so it was nice to see you’.

She didn’t add how proud she had been to be able to introduce Ziva to Decker. That could come later, when she could look her lover in the eyes as she said it.

‘You need to turn left here’.

Jenny wrinkled her brow at Ziva’s instruction, but put her indicator on.

‘That’s towards the freeway’.

‘Indeed’.

Jenny sighed in mock exasperation.

‘Are you not going to tell me anything?’

‘No. Just keep going’.

Jenny shook her head, but she was smiling as she did so and obeyed Ziva’s instruction on where to turn. It was bizarre, being given directions in her own city, and she didn’t ask how Ziva knew her way around so well. Either she had been here before – in which case her visit had probably been mission related and Jenny didn’t think she wanted to know – or she had spent a good part of the day studying a map.

It didn’t take long, however, for Jenny to realise where they were probably headed.

‘Fort Dupont Park?’

‘Very good’. Ziva’s tone was teasing. ‘So I will let you take it from here and find us a parking space’.

That particular instruction was easier to follow than Jenny anticipated. The park was very popular at weekends, but late on a midweek afternoon in autumn it seemed much quieter. Switching off the engine, Jenny turned to Ziva, her eyebrows raised.

‘Now what?’

‘Now’, Ziva reached over and ran her hand through Jenny’s hair, pulling her closer as she did so and trailing light, feathery kisses down her jawline, making Jenny shiver with pleasure. ‘Now we go ice skating’.

‘Pardon?’

Jenny pulled back slightly, her eyebrows raised as Ziva laughed at her expression.

‘You spend too long sitting at a desk. You need to loosen up. Unwind’.

Jenny couldn’t argue with that.

‘And skating is far more enjoyable than going for a run’.

She couldn’t argue with that either.

‘And there is an indoor rink here. So we are going skating. And then.....well, I have another surprise. Which will remain a surprise until later’.

Jenny shook her head again, laughing in resignation.

‘Okay, okay. You’ve convinced me. But I warn you, I have terrible balance and two left feet’.

‘You are going to be skating, Jen’. Ziva looked amused. ‘Not dancing’.

‘Well, the balance thing still applies. I was the only one in my class at school who didn’t have a pair of rollerskates, and it was because I couldn’t stand upright on them’.

‘You will just have to hold on to me, then’.

The teasing, flirty note in Ziva’s voice was unmistakable, and even as Jenny smiled at the playfulness of it, she felt a warmth grow in her stomach at the words. Holding on to Ziva, under any circumstances, was not something she would ever say no to.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Jenny was exhausted. She hadn’t laughed so much in ages and, despite her gloomy predictions of all-over bruises and broken limbs, her balance proved to be far better than she had thought. The fact that she could stand upright on the ice perfectly well by herself didn’t, however, stop her from taking Ziva’s hand as they glided round and across the rink. The Israeli was confident and graceful, and Jenny was once again reminded of the fact that she was a gifted dancer – a fact that should have been at odds with the image of the knife throwing assassin, but that Jenny found was just another piece of the beautiful, slightly complicated jigsaw that was Ziva. She loved watching her partner almost more than she enjoyed the actual skating, and found that she was disappointed when their time was up.

She shivered slightly in the cool, dark air outside as they headed back to the car. Despite the obvious chill inside the ice rink, the exercise had kept the cold at bay, and, wrapped up in the thick jumper and mittens Ziva had brought along for her, she had been too busy having fun to notice anyway. Now, Ziva slipped an arm around her shoulders.

‘Are you cold?’

‘Not really’.

‘I have an extra sweatshirt in the car if you would like to borrow it?’

‘Well, that depends’.

Jenny turned as they reached the car, and caught Ziva’s lips lightly, briefly, with her own. She smiled in satisfaction at the other woman’s small intake of breath.

‘What are we doing now?’

Ziva didn’t reply straight away, but pulled Jenny back towards her and kissed her again, a long, deep kiss that left Jenny feeling slightly dizzy.

‘Well, I had planned on taking you home and warming you up in a hot bubble bath while I make dinner. But we could always go out to eat instead. And since you say you are not cold.....’

‘I was lying’.

‘Hmm’.

Ziva’s eyes sparkled as she leaned back against the car door. Her hands rested on Jenny’s hips, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together and Jenny knew Ziva would be able to feel her heart beating through her clothing. She was grateful that the car park was badly lit, almost empty, and that, for the moment, there was no one else around.

‘So does that mean....?’ Ziva raised an eyebrow as she left the question hanging.

‘That I want to go straight home and climb into a bubble bath? Preferably one with you in it as well?’

Jenny’s voice was husky as she felt Ziva’s hands slip under the jumper and caress her waist, moving tantalisingly close to the waistband of her jeans before lightly stroking her back through her t-shirt. Letting her own hands wander, she leaned forward and gently grazed Ziva’s ear with her teeth, smiling into her neck as she heard her hiss softly.

‘But then who is going to cook?’

It was Jenny’s turn to inhale sharply as Ziva’s fingers slid lower, this time slipping underneath her belt, and it took every ounce of her willpower to pull away and unlock the car. Giving Ziva one last, fierce kiss, she opened the door and climbed in.  
  
‘Screw the dinner’.

 

* * *

 

It was much later on when Jenny finally, reluctantly, climbed out of the deep, no-longer-hot bubble bath and began to dry herself off. She could hear Ziva moving about in the bedroom, and she smirked to herself as she slipped on her robe. They hadn’t even made it upstairs when they got home – in fact, she considered that they had done pretty well to make it home at all. Now, relaxed and scented and warm, and with half a glass of wine left, she felt almost absurdly happy. The only thing missing in that particular moment was Ziva.

Opening the bathroom door, she walked quietly into the bedroom to where Ziva was standing by the bed, folding her clothes from earlier. Jenny noticed that she had changed into loose fitting jeans and a sleeveless top, and she purred in appreciation as she came up behind her and wrapped her arms around Ziva’s waist, nuzzling the back of her neck through her hair.

‘Missed you’.

Ziva chuckled as she dropped her shirt onto the bed and turned in Jenny’s arms.

‘You have only been in there an hour, and I have been just here’.

‘Still missed you’.

‘Hmmm’. Ziva slipped her arms around Jenny’s waist, returning her embrace, before moving her hands back round to the front of the cotton robe.

‘I think I might have missed you too’.

Jenny let out a little sigh of pleasure, and closed her eyes as she felt Ziva’s warm fingers brushing the side of her breast, her thumb lightly teasing her nipple through the thin material.

‘What did Decker mean earlier?’

‘What?’

Jenny opened her eyes reluctantly, jarred by the sudden change in subject, but, as the robe fell open and Ziva’s fingers continued their gentle assault directly on her skin, she moaned softly and arched a little into her lover’s hand.

‘When he said not to worry about tomorrow’. Ziva’s voice was quiet and husky, her expression intense as she concentrated on what she was doing as well as what she was saying. ‘What is happening tomorrow?’

‘Oh’. Jenny sighed. She realised that, for the past few hours, she had completely forgotten about the case. ‘I’m sorry, I meant to tell you earlier’.

‘Tell me what?’

‘A case. Of sorts. Starting tomorrow, but it’ll probably – hopefully – just be a couple of days at most. It’s not one I can really talk about yet, either’.

‘Hmm’. Ziva’s fingers moved from Jenny’s breast further up towards her collarbone, and Jenny gave a petulant look in protest at the change of direction. Ziva smiled as she traced a line across the top of Jenny’s chest.

‘I’m sorry’, Jenny murmured, reaching up a hand to brush Ziva’s hair back over her shoulder. ‘I wanted it to be clear at work so we could have more time together, but.....’

She was cut off by Ziva’s finger lightly over her mouth.

‘It does not matter’. She took Jenny’s hand from her hair and kissed it. ‘We will always have time together. And at least I will be here to look after you while you work. I even promise to try not to ask questions’.

Jenny smiled, and for once did not feel like contradicting Ziva by saying that she didn’t need looking after. Every so often, she thought, it was actually nice to be cared for. It would be especially nice in the next few days, when she knew she would be stressed and tired. And when it came to looking after her, Ziva seemed to do a remarkably good job without even really trying.

‘I had completely forgotten about work’, she admitted.

‘And you can forget it again. Until tomorrow morning’.

Ziva took hold of her shoulders and gently, but firmly, moved her around and onto the bed. As Jenny lay back, the open robe leaving her body exposed, Ziva slowly climbed onto the bed beside her, lying on her side with her upper body propped up on one elbow. Reaching over, she pressed another kiss into Jenny’s palm before entwining their fingers, pressing Jenny’s hand firmly under hers.

Jenny gasped as she felt Ziva guide their hands back towards her breast, felt her own fingers brush against the hardened nipple, and saw Ziva’s eyes darken as she leaned over to take Jenny’s lips in a long, slow kiss. Her breathing was becoming shallow, and Ziva’s hand, firm on top of hers, was moving her fingers over the dark pink bud and slowly down her side to the top of her thigh. A rush of heat shot straight to her stomach, and she became aware of a sudden, throbbing ache between her legs that seemed to be matching her rapidly increasing heartbeat.

‘Ziva.....’

‘Shhh’. Ziva brushed her lips against Jenny’s cheek. ‘Just relax’.

Jenny took a deep breath, trying not to moan again as Ziva fully covered her hand with her own, in total control as she moved Jenny’s fingers lower.

‘Do you trust me?’

Jenny couldn’t speak to answer, but simply nodded as she gazed at Ziva, green eyes and brown ones both hazy with desire.

‘Then let go’.

This time Jenny couldn’t stop the soft groan as Ziva guided her fingers in between her legs, and gently pressed the tips to the swelling bundle of nerves beneath the soft folds. She closed her eyes as, slowly, Ziva began moving Jenny’s index finger backwards and forwards, setting the pace, never allowing too much pressure, letting Jenny feel the pulsing and the heat and the wetness under her fingertip but never letting her take over.

‘See how gorgeous you feel?’

Jenny heard Ziva’s murmur in her ear, but her only answer was to arch her hips slightly and gasp as Ziva’s finger – her finger – hit a particularly sensitive spot. She heard Ziva chuckle softly.

‘I will take that as a yes’.

Jenny moaned as she tried to press harder, move faster, but Ziva’s hand held her back. She felt herself growing hotter, wetter, felt her clit swelling under the relentless teasing, and, opening her eyes, breathed out sharply as she saw Ziva looking down at her, her brown eyes almost black and her chest rising and falling rapidly.

‘Ziva…’

A slow smile crossed Ziva’s face.

‘You want to feel this too?’

She tried not to cry out as Ziva shifted their hands slightly and slid Jenny’s finger inside, before lowering her mouth and flicking her tongue lightly, teasingly, across the nipple that was still tender from her last ministrations.

‘You feel amazing’.

Ziva’s breath was warm against Jenny’s cool skin, her tongue hot against the sensitive flesh while the gentle pressure of her hand pushed Jenny into a rhythm, slow at first, and then slightly faster. Jenny moaned again, desperate this time as she arched her hips slightly. Her whole body seemed to be tingling and trembling with need. She didn’t think she could take this much longer.

Ziva seemed to read her mind.

‘I think it must be my turn’.

Jenny heard the murmured words , knew what she meant, but still her little groan turned to a strangled gasp as she moved her hand to let Ziva slip two fingers deep inside her. All sense of time and space seemed to disappear as the other woman took over the rhythm that she had driven them into, moving steadily, her fingers parting and curving slightly to catch the spots that she knew would drive Jenny wild. Unable to stop herself, even if she had wanted to, Jenny touched herself once more, flicking and stroking, mimicking the actions of Ziva’s tongue on her breast. She felt herself tightening, knew that she was close, and pushed upwards onto Ziva’s hand just as she heard her lover’s ragged whisper in her ear.

‘Come for me, Jen, make yourself let go’.

It was all she needed to fall apart, crying out and shuddering, feeling the hot wetness bathe her hand as well as Ziva’s, her muscles contracting in a powerful, all-consuming climax that, when it finally subsided, left her feeling completely and utterly sated. She was aware of Ziva holding her, of strong arms wrapped around her and, as she closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar soft smell of shampoo and faint perfume, felt a warm rush of love that filled her as much as the physical sensations.

She had never known that feeling before she met Ziva. Now, she never wanted to let it go.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Jenny leaned back, her head resting on the back of the seat and her hands still loosely gripping the steering wheel. She was tired, frustrated, and aching all over, and wanted to take a few minutes to herself before she headed inside. It was late. The lights were on in the hallway and kitchen, indicating that Ziva was home, and Jenny realised that she had not had a moment to even  think about the other woman all day. Although, she thought, as she reached across for her handbag, it was probably just as well. Things at work had been difficult enough without any added distractions.

 

She had arrived at the NCIS office that morning to find Morrow in a filthy mood. Decker’s quiet warning of ‘trouble brewing upstairs’ had not done it justice – in fact, she didn’t think she had ever seen him so angry. She had barely had time to take her coat off before he had called them both into his office and, through a monologue peppered with muttered threats and expletives, had informed them that the CIA had jumped the gun. When Jenny had raised her eyebrows, not completely understanding but not really wanting to ask either, he had spelled it out for her in no uncertain terms.

 

‘ _The bastards have changed the goalposts. We only have today with Ekrami, then he goes over to Langley. They’re saying that most of his information will be more relevant to them, and if he reveals anything about a naval attack later on then they’ll pass it straight to us anyway. That jumped up little shit of an agent went over my head to Sec Nav, so it’s out of my hands’._

Jenny – and Decker – had refrained from asking which jumped up little shit in particular he was talking about. Instead, they had nodded, understood, and got on with the task in hand. And now, finally sat outside her house at ten at night, Jenny had to admit that she was grateful for the shortened time frame. It had not been difficult getting information out of Ekrami; after all, he had volunteered for this. But she had not trusted him. And knowing what he had done and what he had been a part of......she had expected Decker to laugh when she had confided in him that Ekrami gave her the creeps, but instead he had nodded and grimly replied that he knew what she meant. Since he was usually the last person to let a case – or a suspect – affect him, his admission had not made her feel any better.

 

What Adom Ekrami had told them, though, could prove invaluable. Names, several of them. Dates, places, plans.  And the details, albeit sketchy, of an attack on a US Navy ship that was scheduled to be taking part in joint exercises in the Mediterranean the following month. If even half of it was true, it was like gold dust. And therein lay their next problem – getting the information had been relatively easy, but verifying it would be far more difficult.

 

Jenny sighed, and stepped out of the car. There was no point in thinking about it all night. The information that needed to be passed on immediately had already been sent to the relevant people, while the rest would be sorted through and worked on in the coming days. Walking slowly towards her front door, she found herself wishing she could talk to Ziva about it. The other woman was a damn good agent, and Jenny knew that she would not only be able to help in separating the fact from the fiction, but would also probably have some sound words of advice on leaving behind the uneasy feeling that Jenny seemed to have carried home with her. She smiled wryly to herself. _Well, maybe not words as such._ She suspected that Ziva’s way of helping her to unwind would involve alcohol and bed, but sometimes actions really did speak louder and work better.

 

However, despite all of that, she was mindful of the warnings Morrow had given her and Decker again that morning about keeping the interrogation quiet. As far as she was aware, no one else within NCIS even knew Ekrami had been there, and probably never would. Of course there would be rumours and speculation as to where the intelligence had come from - that was inevitable. But it was strictly need-to-know. And Ziva, both as a Mossad officer and as Jenny’s partner, came firmly under the heading of ‘didn’t and shouldn’t’.

 

Besides, as she entered the hallway and heard the welcoming call of Ziva’s voice from the kitchen, she could already feel herself starting to relax a little. Coming home to someone was new to her but, at the same time, coming home to Ziva felt like the most natural thing in the world.

 

* * *

 

‘Are you ok?’

 

Ziva looked concerned as she indicated the plate of food and almost empty glass of wine that sat on the table in front of Jenny. The wine had gone down quickly, the food, not so well. Jenny wasn’t sure if she was just too tired, or whether she was still slightly unnerved by the events of the day, but whatever the reason, she really wasn’t hungry. She didn’t think she could force it down.

 

She sighed, and pushed the plate away.

 

‘Sorry’. She shook her head. ‘Just......’

 

Ziva leaned back in her own chair, her brown eyes fixed on Jenny’s face and her arms folded in front of her. Jenny registered the concern and curiosity, but also the perceptiveness, the hint of understanding that could only come from someone else who knew the job, and knew how draining it could be.

 

‘Want to talk about it?’

 

‘Yes’. Jenny drained her glass and pushed that away as well. ‘And no’.

 

She changed her mind, reaching for the bottle and pouring another half glass.

 

‘Can’t’. She contemplated the red liquid. ‘Shouldn’t’.  

 

Ziva smiled.

 

‘All of the above?’

 

Jenny nodded, grimacing. She noticed Ziva looking slightly hesitant as she leaned forward, reaching across the corner of the table for the pendant that still hung around Jenny’s neck, and lightly turning the gold Magen David over in her fingers. Jenny remembered how Ziva always used to fiddle with it when she was troubled by something, and she narrowed her eyes slightly. Perhaps she had just been too caught up in her own thoughts to notice, or maybe she had just had too much wine and it was her imagination.....but she suddenly thought that Ziva, too, seemed a little tense and on edge.

 

‘Are _you_ ok?’

 

Ziva didn’t reply immediately, but dropped her hand back onto the table.

 

‘Of course’. She gave Jenny a quick smile before standing up and taking the plate over to the kitchen counter. ‘Just worried about you’.

 

‘I’ll be fine’.

 

Jenny studied the other woman carefully. She knew – or thought she knew – her well enough by now to realise when something was not quite right.

 

‘You should really have this necklace back anyway’.

 

Ziva shook her head.

 

‘I keep telling you, I want you to keep it. And besides.....I think you will have more need of it than I will over the next few days’.

 

‘Hmmm’.

 

Taking another sip of her wine, Jenny wondered if she was over-reacting, and reading too much into something that wasn’t there in the first place. It was late, after all, and she was tired. And even if Ziva was worried about something, that didn’t mean that it had anything to do with her........she was being irrational.

 

‘You sure you’re ok?’

 

‘Why?’

 

Ziva was still busy with the dishwasher, and Jenny couldn’t see her face.

 

‘Just....you seem a bit worried about something’.

 

‘No, I am fine’. Ziva shook her head as she wiped her hands on a tea towel, and finally turned to face Jenny. ‘But I think you need an early night’.

 

Half an hour later, Jenny had to admit she was right. She had barely been in bed for two minutes, and already her eyes were starting to drift shut. She felt Ziva climb in beside her and drop a kiss onto her bare shoulder before switching off the light. The last thing that Jenny thought, before sleep took her over completely, was that Ziva’s reassuring smile earlier hadn’t quite reached her eyes.

 

* * *

 

It was a thought that remained at the back of Jenny’s mind for most of the next day. Ziva had got up with her that morning, despite the horribly early start, and had headed out for a run when Jenny left for work, saying that she wasn’t sure what she would be doing for the rest of the day but that she would be home by the time Jenny finished work. Everything seemed fine. And yet.....there was something still off. It was strange, Jenny reflected, as she sat at her desk. She had met Ziva less than three months before, and yet she already felt closer to her than she had ever done to anyone else. And her gut was telling her that there was something on Ziva’s mind that she was not sharing.   

 

She knew that Decker noticed her slight distraction, and was grateful to him for not asking or making a joke at her expense as they began to work their way through the piles of intelligence Ekrami had given them. The work should have kept her busy enough to not think about anything else, but every so often, despite her best efforts at concentration, the nagging worry that Ziva was holding something back from her would return. Had she imagined it? If she hadn’t, was it a professional concern or – God forbid – a personal one? She had always thought that, even though Ziva wasn’t generally one for talking much, that the Israeli would at least be honest with her. So maybe, when she had said there was nothing wrong, there really wasn’t anything to worry about and Jenny’s instinct was off.......but then again........

 

Jenny shook her head, trying to clear it of the train of thought that was threatening to take her places she really didn’t want to go. Looking over at Decker, she considered – for a very brief moment – asking him what he thought, but then dismissed the idea. Decker was great in many ways and at many times, but not now. For now, she had work to do. Ziva would have to come later.

 

* * *

 

When later finally came, Jenny began to wish that she had swallowed her concerns and kept quiet.

 

After she had returned home – at a slightly more reasonable hour this time – and they had eaten, she cleared away and sat back down at the kitchen table while Ziva started to make tea from some herbs that she had found in the cupboard. Jenny still thought she seemed........well, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Just not quite right. But, after asking the Israeli for the second time whether there was anything she wanted to talk about and receiving the same quick smiles and fleeting denials in response, Jenny was about to give up. She had just started wondering if there might be a film or something on television to take her mind off things, when Ziva finally turned to her, her back against the kitchen counter and her arms folded. She looked at Jenny thoughtfully for a long moment, as if deciding whether she wanted to speak or not, before handing her a steaming mug of tea and speaking quietly.

 

‘I am sorry. You are right, I have been.....I have had something on my mind’.

 

 

Jenny raised her eyebrows as she took the drink, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. In her experience, looks like that – and admissions like that - were never good.

 

‘Want to share?’

 

‘It seems I cannot get anything past you’.

‘So you going to tell me, or do I have to wring it out of you?’

 

Jenny kept her tone light, teasing, but she saw Ziva take a deep breath and there was a pause before she spoke again. It was a pause that, in Jenny’s mind, seemed to go on forever.

 

‘Ekrami. You let him get to you, Jen. And I was worried’.

 

Jenny’s eyes opened wide in shock, and what little she had eaten suddenly felt as if it had turned to rocks in her stomach. _How the hell......?_

 

She hadn’t said anything. She knew she hadn’t.

 

And whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that. 


	6. Chapter 6

Jenny was finding it hard to breathe.

 

The words Ziva had just spoken were going round and round in her mind like a whirlwind - _'You let him get to you, Jen, and I was worried'_ \- how the hell had she known? Blinking rapidly, she looked across the table and saw Ziva sitting there, her expression concerned. Nervous. And ever so slightly guilty.

 

Jenny knew her own reaction was written all over her face - the numb disbelief as she tried to process what Ziva had just said; the slow realisation that, since Jenny hadn't told her about Ekrami, she must have known in an official capacity and therefore must have been working as part of her visit. And the gradual dawning of something resembling anger, as she took her thoughts to the logical conclusion. This had the potential to put her in a very awkward situation at NCIS but, for the moment, she was more bothered about something else.

 

Ziva had lied to her.

 

'Care to explain?'

 

After what seemed like an interminable pause, Ziva responded with a question of her own.

 

'Did you not realise that other agencies - other countries - have also been interested in Ekrami?'

 

Mossad. Israel.

 

Of course.

 

Jenny knew her voice was cold, but she couldn't help it.

 

'Funnily enough, I didn't think about it'.

 

Ziva nodded, her eyes betraying the smallest hint of the sting that Jenny's tone had delivered, before she took a deep breath.

 

'Your embassy in Islamabad did not keep it particularly quiet. And we have agents there'.

 

'You have agents everywhere'.

 

Ziva ignored her and carried on speaking, quietly, intensely.

 

'It was felt that a chance like this was too good to miss. He has killed Israelis too, Jen. Directly or indirectly, it does not matter'.

 

'So.....' Jenny had to force the words out. 'I take it Mossad is involved here. In Washington'.

 

Ziva nodded. To her credit, she did not look away, or flinch at Jenny's angry stare.

 

'In conjunction with the CIA. Obviously we could not interrogate him at your embassy, or take him back to Israel. And the CIA - well, they owed us a favour'.

 

Jenny began to feel slightly sick.

 

'Right'.

 

She abruptly stood up, and walked around to the sink to fetch herself a glass of water. She didn't really want it, but it was something to do while she psyched herself up to ask the obvious, the question that she knew the answer to but wasn't sure she could face. Taking a large gulp, she stood with her back to Ziva. She couldn't look at her.

 

'I assume that you're taking part in that?' She found herself biting the inside of her bottom lip, trying to get the words out without her voice shaking. 'And that that's why you're really here? To interrogate Ekrami?'

 

There was another pause and Jenny turned round, on the brink of pushing once more for an answer, but Ziva held up a hand, asking her silently to give her a minute. It looked as if this was just as hard for her to talk about as it was for Jenny to hear.

 

'I have never told you about my father'.

 

Her father?

 

Jenny opened her mouth to argue against the apparent change in subject, but the look on Ziva's face stopped her and she closed it again, forcing herself to think.

 

No, she didn't think she had.

 

They had talked a lot over the past few weeks. They had shared hopes and dreams, frustrations and fears, and, of course, family had been mentioned. But, she realised now, it had only ever been in passing. A childhood memory that had slipped into the conversation, or a fleeting comment that carried no significance whatsoever. Jenny had never thought about it before; after all, she was not particularly close to the family that she had left, and had never really wanted to spend the valuable time that she had with Ziva talking about them. She had assumed that Ziva was the same, and it had not struck her as odd.

 

Until now.

 

She shook her head and raised one eyebrow, waiting for Ziva to continue.

 

'He is also part of Mossad'. The Israeli took a deep breath. 'Actually, he is the Deputy Director'.

 

Jenny closed her eyes briefly, wondering if things could actually get any worse. She hoped not.

 

'And you didn't think to tell me?'

 

'I try and avoid talking about him to people who do not already know. They often get the wrong impression, and they think that I made it in Mossad because of my father. I did not. And I did not want you to think that of me. Besides, my relationship with him....it is not the best. I did not want to burden you with that as well'.

 

Jenny blinked, about to protest that she knew how good Ziva was, that she would never have thought her position was the result of favouritism, and that it wouldn't have made the slightest bit of difference one way or the other, but Ziva started speaking again, cutting her off before she had even begun.

 

'He knew I was seeing you. And he knew I was planning on coming over here. He.....well. He wanted it done as soon as possible. The CIA gave us their co-operation, and we arranged a joint interrogation'.

 

Jesus.

 

Jenny blew out a long, slow breath and shook her head, not needing to hear any more. Suddenly, things were slotting horribly, perfectly, into place.

 

Ziva arriving early.

 

The sudden insistence of the CIA that Ekrami be sent almost immediately on to Langley. 

 

'So you came early on your father's orders, so that you could interrogate a terrorist at Langley for Mossad'.

 

Jenny couldn't help remembering how happy she had been when Ziva had arrived before she was meant to. How good it had felt to think that the Israeli had missed her so much that she had changed her flight and her schedule to spend an extra few days with her.

 

She swallowed down the nausea and the lump that seemed to have formed in her throat, and took another mouthful of water as Ziva leaned back in her chair, resting her elbow on the table. The Israeli suddenly looked exhausted.

 

'Yes', she admitted, looking up at Jenny. 'And no'.

 

Jenny watched as she ran her hands through her long dark hair, loosening her curls before dropping her hands into her lap.

 

'I wanted to come ever since we said goodbye in Israel'.

 

Her voice was quiet, so quiet that Jenny had to strain to hear her properly.

 

'I missed you from the moment you got on that plane, Jenny. The day after you left, I put in the extra leave and changed my flight. I did not tell you....I wanted it to be a surprise'.

 

She reached for her glass and, after contemplating the bottle of wine briefly as if wondering whether it was really a good idea, she gave a small shrug and poured herself another one.

 

'Mossad heard about Ekrami about a week before I was due to fly out. As I said before, my father felt that it was too good an opportunity to miss'.

 

Jenny thought that she detected a faint note of bitterness in Ziva's voice, and thought that maybe she had imagined it.

 

She soon realised that she hadn't.

 

'Obviously, I could not tell you. Just as you could not tell me. I knew that Ekrami would be going to NCIS first, and when you said that you had a case, I knew it must be that. But.....you get orders, and you follow them. Even when you disagree with them. For whatever reason.

 

Jenny waited, and watched as Ziva took a mouthful of wine. Suddenly, she felt slightly overwhelmed. The numbness and the disbelief and the anger and all the other emotions that had flooded through her in the space of a few minutes had dissipated to leave her feeling completely drained, but she wanted to hear Ziva out. And, despite everything, she found herself believing what she was being told.

 

'Lately, I have been feeling....well. It does not really matter. Disillusioned, I suppose. That is the word, yes?'

 

She tilted her head questioningly at Jenny, asking for confirmation, and Jenny found herself nodding silently. Disillusioned.

 

She had had no idea.

 

'I did not want to do this. Somehow, it went beyond just being unhappy with an order. I knew what was expected of me - to get the information by whatever means. Even if it meant harsh methods, even if it meant putting you in an awkward position and treading on the fingers of NCIS.....'

 

Jenny didn't correct her use of the idiom.

 

'.....Even if it meant lying to you'.

 

 Ziva was fiddling with the stem of her wine glass, her fingers displaying her nerves.

 

'That was the worst part, and I could not do it. I know what Ekrami has done, but still......and then, when you came home last night - you should have seen yourself, Jen. And I could not help you properly because I could not talk to you about it'.

 

She took a deep breath, and looked up at Jenny again, the pain and worry and fear in her brown eyes obvious, and Jenny felt an urge to go over and put her arms around the other woman, to hold her tight and tell her it was okay, that she was forgiven, and that they were stronger than this. Because deep down, she knew that all of that was true. And she knew Ziva needed to hear it.

 

But she resisted. It took every ounce of her willpower, but she sensed that Ziva was not yet finished.

 

'So when my father called yesterday and told me that the interrogation had been set for today, I told him that he would have to get someone else. One of the other agents in the area'.

 

Jenny didn't like to ask exactly how many Mossad agents were active in the DC region. Instead, she concentrated on the immediate problem.

 

'What did he say to that?'

 

Ziva swallowed hard, and Jenny was shocked to see her blinking back tears.

 

'He told me it was an order. So if I was going to disobey it, I would have to consider my position. I am sorry, Jen. That is why I was maybe distant yesterday, and this morning. I was......considering'.

 

Her mirthless smile did nothing to reassure Jenny that the outcome of this was going to be good. Slowly, she walked over and knelt on the floor by Ziva's chair, resting one hand on her lap and taking Ziva's chin in the other, forcing the Israeli to look at her.

 

'Ziva?'

 

'I told him he would have my resignation within forty eight hours, and I emailed it this afternoon'.

 

Jenny's eyes widened, and she blew out a long, slow breath. She didn't think she had ever been stunned into silence before.

 

But, it seemed, there was a first time for everything.


	7. Chapter 7

'She did _what_?'

 

Decker spluttered into his coffee, coughing as he tried to swallow and talk at the same time, but only succeeded in spilling some of the hot liquid onto the table. For once, Jenny didn't chastise him as he swore and reached for a paper napkin. She didn't even roll her eyes, despite the fact that his reaction to Ziva's bombshell was turning out to be far more vocal than her own had been the night before. Instead, she nodded slowly as she stirred her own drink, watching the creamy, light brown latte swirl around in the mug.

 

'Wow'.

 

'Yep'.

 

Jenny sighed. She knew that she must look as shattered as she felt, and that her lack of concentration at work that morning had been obvious. She had managed to switch on her computer and stare at the screen, without doing anything, for a whole hour before Decker had gently pointed out that reports generally did not type themselves. But she had only realised how bad things must have looked when he had insisted on taking her out of the office at lunchtime, round to her favorite coffee bar where she normally grabbed her first-thing-in-the-morning fix. He would only have done that if he thought it was a dire emergency - normally Decker refused on principle to go anywhere where they served any kind of syrup with coffee, and he had made a point of ordering it straight-up black. Jenny, however, felt like she needed calories. And sugar. Over a muffin and the first latte, she had found herself answering his questions without too much resistance, and eventually the whole sorry story had come tumbling out.

 

Now, over the second latte, she was dealing with the fallout.

 

'Soooooo....?'

 

Decker drew out the one-word question as long as he could, still mopping up his spilt coffee but keeping his eyes on Jenny. She was aware of his concerned expression, but she didn't reply immediately. She wasn't entirely sure what to say.

 

Finally she shrugged.

 

'So, I don't know. She said she sent in her resignation yesterday afternoon when she should have been at Langley. I don't know if she's had any response yet'.

 

'Didn't you try and....I don't know, talk her out of it?'

 

'Of course I did'. Jenny sighed in a sudden fit of exasperation that was not just aimed at Decker, but at herself as well. She had indeed tried to talk Ziva out of resigning from Mossad. And she had failed miserably.

 

She realised that Decker was waiting for her to elaborate.

 

'I didn't get anywhere'. She knew that she sounded defensive. 'She's made up her mind. I tried telling her she could still retract it and that it maybe wasn't the best time to make a decision like that, but she wouldn't even consider it'.

 

'And she didn't give any more of a reason?'

 

'No. She just said that it wasn't as sudden as it appeared to be'.

 

'Hmmm'. Decker threw the sodden napkin down on his empty plate and leaned forward. 'Jen, are you going to need to tell Morrow about this?'

 

Jenny looked up at him, and shook her head firmly.

 

'There's nothing to tell. She didn't do the interrogation. She never went to Langley. And even if she had, I wouldn't have known about it until afterwards. No, Morrow would just make things worse unnecessarily. It's more personal'.

 

'Ok'.

 

'I just wish....ugh, God! I wish she'd told me'. Jenny dropped her spoon by the side of her mug with a clatter and leaned back in her chair, running her hands through her hair.

 

'She was probably just trying to protect you'.

 

'Protect me from what?'

 

'From something that could easily be seen as a blatant conflict of interest. And....well. Mossad's methods are well known, Jenny'.

 

'Apparently to everyone but me. Anyway, she wouldn't have needed to do anything like that. Ekrami volunteered for this. You were there the other day, you saw him. He wouldn't shut up'.

 

'With us. Once he became aware that we were sharing him with the Israelis, he may not have been so amenable'.

 

'So why did Mossad want to send an agent at all? Why not just talk to the CIA after they'd questioned him?'

 

Decker raised his eyebrows.

 

'You'd trust the CIA to give you the full picture of everything that was said?'

 

Jenny was silent for a moment, before conceding that he was probably right.

 

'Point taken'.

 

'And, from what I have heard of Eli David, he has....well, he has his own methods of doing things. And he seems to work on the basis that if you want something doing, you do it yourself''.

 

'You guessed that they were related?'

 

Decker shook his head.

 

'I thought about it, but there's lots of Davids in Israel'.

 

'Yeah, that's what Ziva said'.

 

Jenny still felt like an idiot for not realising that Eli David, deputy director of Mossad, was related to Ziva. She had heard his name mentioned at NCIS before, and knew who he was. But because Ziva had never brought him up, the possibility had never even crossed Jenny's mind. When she had said the previous evening how stupid she thought she had been, Ziva had almost smiled. It had been the closest she had come to it all night.

 

_'It is a common name in Israel. Thankfully'_.

 

It had been well past midnight when they had gone to bed, but Jenny didn't think that she had slept properly at all. Instead, she had drifted in between dozing and wakefulness, holding Ziva in her arms and feeling the hot, silent tears that the other woman would never have let her see in the light of day. Eventually, at around four in the morning, Ziva had fallen asleep, and an hour later Jenny had turned off the alarm before it started beeping and crept out without waking her. Her silence hadn't been entirely altruistic. She had needed a bit of time to herself to try and get her head around things.

 

'So what are you going to do?'

 

Decker's question brought her back to the present, and to the lukewarm coffee sitting in front of her. She took a mouthful before replying.

 

'What do you mean? Am I going to stay with her?'

 

He shook his head.

 

'No. Look, Jen.....so she lied to you. Or she didn't tell you the whole truth. Whatever. That happens all the time, you'll get over it if you really love her. Which I think you do?'

 

He paused, and Jenny, somewhat reluctantly, nodded. Part of her hated the fact that Decker could read her like a book but, at times like this, it did save her having to try and find the words to explain her feelings. That had never been her strong point.

 

'And she did tell you eventually. What I meant was.....well. If she's handed in her resignation, and if it's been accepted, then I doubt she'll want to go back to Israel for a while'.

 

'What are you getting at?'

 

'Jen, drink some more coffee if your brain's really that slow'. Decker was looking at her with a mixture of exasperation and amused fondness. 'I'm getting at the fact that the obvious thing for her to do is to stay here. With you. And I, being the nosy parker that I am, was wondering if you had thought about that. Whether you're ready for that. And what you're going to do'.

 

Jenny opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again as she realised exactly what Decker had said. Had she thought about that? No. She hadn't thought about it at all.

 

Was she ready for it? Twenty-four hours ago, she would have said yes. Unreservedly. And she would probably still say yes, but perhaps with a little more thought and a lot more caution.

 

So what was she going to do?

 

She looked up at Decker's questioning face, and slowly shook her head.

 

She had no idea.

 

* * *

 

 

That question - _what are you going to do?_ \- was all Jenny could think about as she sat at her desk through the afternoon, working as if on autopilot. The last of the reports from their interrogation of Ekrami were just about finished, and Decker, understanding that her mind was elsewhere and would be until something was resolved with Ziva, made a point of saying that he was planning on leaving the office on time and that he thought she should do the same. It was a not-so-subtle hint that Jenny gratefully took but, even as she struggled home through the rush-hour traffic, her mind was still going round and round in circles, trying to decide what to say and what to do when she got there. 

 

Should she ask Ziva to stay?

 

Was she ready for that? Would Ziva be ready for that?

 

Would Ziva want that?

 

As she passed the Tidal Basin, she suddenly thought that, if Ziva's resignation hadn't been accepted, neither of them would have a choice.

 

That idea was like a slow-motion kick in the gut, making her feel worse and worse the longer she considered it. It tormented her all the way along the Parkway and, as she turned up into Georgetown, she came to the conclusion that it would be even more awful in reality and that it didn't bear thinking about any further. By the time she pulled up outside the house and switched off the engine, she had at least decided on one thing.

 

Despite everything, she didn't want Ziva to go anywhere.

 

So when she pushed open her front door to see Ziva's duffel bag packed and ready to go on the hallway floor, the jolt of sheer, horrified panic that shot through her was enough to make her feel physically sick.

 

Was it really all going to have been for nothing?

 

'Jen?'

 

She tore her eyes away from the bag to see Ziva standing in the kitchen doorway, her eyes slightly red and her jacket in one hand.

 

'I was waiting until you got home...'

 

'What for?' Jenny's voice was shaking, but she didn't care. 'Some sort of goodbye?'

 

'I did not want to leave without seeing you'.

 

'Where? Back to Israel?'

 

Jenny found that she could barely force the words out.

 

'No, that is....well, probably not a good idea. Not just yet, anyway'.

 

_Not a good idea. Not just yet._ Something in Jenny's mind grabbed hold of those words as if they were lifelines. That must mean......

 

'Your resignation was accepted?'

 

Ziva nodded, that slightly bitter smile flashing across her face again.

 

'By the Director. So my father did not have a choice'.

 

Jenny took a few deep breaths. Part of her was relieved, despite the packed bag on the floor between them, and she tried to slow her train of thought down and be logical. No Israel. Resignation accepted. She still didn't know the real reasons for it, or what the repercussions might be, or even whether it was really what Ziva wanted.......and at that particular moment she didn't really care. She - they - could deal with that later.

 

Right now, she just needed to convince Ziva to give 'later' a chance.

 

'Where were you planning on going?'

 

Ziva shrugged, indicating that she didn't really know.

 

'I just thought that you would want some space after....after everything'.

 

She was staring at the duffel bag, desperately trying to avoid Jenny's gaze, and Jenny saw that the Israeli looked exhausted. Defeated. And suddenly very fragile.

 

'No'.

 

Jenny spoke softly, her voice now little more than a cracked whisper, but it was enough to make Ziva's gaze flicker upwards, a glimmer of something - hope, perhaps? - in the brown eyes that began to tentatively search Jenny's face.

 

'What do you mean?'

 

Jenny paused. She wasn't sure how she could make it any clearer.

 

'I mean no. I don't want some space'.

 

Her voice was stronger now. She knew what she wanted - needed - to say. But she also knew that she wasn't particularly good at this kind of thing, and her only consolation was that Ziva was probably even worse.

 

Best to keep it simple.

 

'I want you to stay'.

 

Ziva's eyes widened, and it was a few seconds before she spoke.

 

'Why?'

 

'Why?'

 

Jenny reiterated the question as she played for time, searching for the words to form her answer. She saw that she was going to have to spell it out. And that Ziva wasn't going to help her.

 

Ah, hell.

 

Keep it simple.

 

She took another deep breath. She had nothing to lose, really.

 

'Because I love you'.

 

She had admitted it to herself. She had even admitted it to Decker. But, from the stunned look on Ziva's face, she had never admitted it properly to her.

 

'I......'

 

Ziva broke off, her breath hitching in her throat, and Jenny waited, her own heart pounding as she wondered whether Ziva had really had no idea. And whether she felt the same way.

 

Whether she would stay.

 

A loud hooting from a car horn made them both jump, and Ziva looked slightly panicked.

 

'I had called for a cab'.

 

Jenny nodded slowly. She realised that she was still standing in front of the open door in her coat, her handbag still slung over her shoulder, and she silently moved to the side to allow Ziva to pass.

 

After the past twenty-four hours, she didn't have it in her to do anything more. She had laid herself open and made clear what it was that she wanted.

 

What Ziva chose to do with that was now up to her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Jenny sank down onto the stairs, unwilling to trust her legs to hold her up for much longer. She didn't even have the energy to take her coat off. Her handbag lay where she had dropped it, by the hall table at the foot of the stairs, but she didn't notice that it had come open and that her lipstick and car keys had fallen out onto the floor. As she leaned her head against the cool, painted plaster of the wall, her eyes remained fixed on the front door.

 

It had closed behind Ziva just a couple of minutes before, but already that two minutes seemed like hours.

 

She felt completely numb.

 

She had read scenes like this in books, and watched them in movies. They had always come across as trite. Corny. Cliched. The product of an overactive, overly emotional imagination that was aiming for star ratings rather than reality. That kind of scene - the declaration of undying love followed by a swift exit - it was 'Gone With the Wind' stuff. It didn't happen in real life.

 

And Jenny had always hated that film.

 

Yet here she was.

 

She tried to force her brain to work, tried to get herself together and snap out of it. She tried to tell herself that perhaps it was for the best, that it was unlikely Ziva would have been allowed to stay in the country anyway and that eventually she would have had to leave. She tried to convince herself that sooner was better than later, and that it would have hurt much more to have to say goodbye in six month's time.

 

But, deep down, she knew that when the numbness disappeared, it wouldn't feel like that.

 

It would hurt.

 

Closing her eyes, so as not to have to look at the door anymore, she took a couple of deep breaths. Her hands had start shaking and, even though she was sitting down, her legs felt wobbly. In fact, she realised, she was trembling all over. Swallowing hard, she tried to fight down the rising surge of nausea and tears and slight hysteria, but there was nothing she could do about the sudden desolation and loneliness that overwhelmed her. It was almost too much to take.

 

Concentrating on trying to get her breathing under control, she didn't hear the front door open and close again quietly, or the soft footsteps that crossed over to the staircase. Her eyes only snapped open when she felt a hand on her knee.

 

'Jenny?'

 

Jenny's brow wrinkled in momentary confusion. Ziva had walked out of the house and closed the front door behind her. She had left. But now she was here, crouching on the floor, her smile slightly tentative and her eyes worried.

 

'You.....'

 

Jenny didn't get any further. Casting her gaze around, she caught sight of Ziva's bag still on the floor. She had been in such a state that she hadn't noticed that Ziva had not taken it with her.

 

'You forgot your bag?'

 

Ziva shook her head, a small laugh escaping her.

 

'No. I only went to tell the driver that I would not be needing a cab after all. He was a bit....what do you say? Pissed? But he cheered up when I explained'.

 

Jenny blinked. She was losing the thread here.

 

'Explained what?'

 

She felt Ziva's fingers on her cheek, wiping away the tears that she didn't realise had fallen.

 

'That I love you too much to leave you. That I still do not think I deserve you, and that after everything I have done, I think you must be mad to give me a second chance.....but that I want to take it because I want to be with you'.

 

Jenny felt like she was dreaming - although later, she would look back and think that perhaps it was the opposite of a dream, that it was a moment of clarity after a long, long time asleep. She looked at Ziva, still crouching in front of her, saw that she was real and that she hadn't just imagined those words. And slowly, a heavy fog began to lift.

 

Biting her bottom lip to stop herself from crying again, she tried to return Ziva's smile.

 

'You told all that to the cab driver?'

 

Ziva nodded, and Jenny couldn't help a small giggle that came out as more of a teary hiccup. But still, it was headed in the right direction.

 

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, with Ziva's fingers gently stroking her cheek and a comforting hand still on her knee. There was so much that she thought she should have been saying, but none of it seemed to come close to what she was actually feeling. And since she wasn't sure she could articulate anything very well without becoming tearful again, she kept quiet and just let the moment be.

 

It was Ziva who finally broke the silence.

 

'I really am sorry, Jen'.

 

Jenny shook her head, and squeezed the hand that was resting on her knee.

 

'Doesn't matter'.

 

Ziva nodded insistently.

 

'It does'.

 

'Just......' Jenny broke off as she looked over at Ziva's packed bag, and took a deep breath. She knew that it would be a while before she could look at that bag without being reminded of how close she had come to losing Ziva.

 

'Just give me some warning if you ever do that again'.

 

 Ziva nodded, trying to smile.

 

'I never wanted to leave you'.

 

'I know'.

 

Ziva raised her eyebrows.

 

'Do you?'

 

Jenny nodded slowly. She did know. In many ways, she and Ziva were very alike, and she couldn't say with any certainty that she would not have done exactly the same had the situation been reversed.

 

'Yeah. I think I do'.

 

'Good. Because I am useless at talking about this kind of thing'.

 

Jenny did smile then.

 

'So we're as bad as each other'.

 

Ziva returned her smile.

 

'I am, uh.....not sure if that is a good thing or not'.

 

'Probably not'.

 

'But perhaps we can.....'

 

'Muddle through?' Jenny finished Ziva's question for her. 'I think we can'.

 

Ziva's voice was soft, a hint of the relief she was feeling showing in her tone.

 

'I am very glad'.

 

They were silent again for a moment, each of them letting it sink in, trying to absorb what had just been said. Jenny realised that she was no longer shaking. Her breathing was steadier. And, eventually, she felt strong enough to ask the one question that she felt she deserved an answer to.

 

'Ziva?'

 

The Israeli looked up at her.

 

'Why did you resign? I mean, really?'

 

Ziva was silent for a moment.

 

'Because.....' She paused, thinking, and Jenny could see in her eyes that she was elsewhere, remembering things that she had never spoken of before. At last, she focused on Jenny with a forced, resigned smile.

 

'Too many bodies'.

 

The brutal, simple honesty took Jenny by surprise as Ziva continued speaking, her eyes now fixed on the wall.

 

'Not all of whom were guilty. And it has made no difference whatsoever'.

 

Jenny didn't try and reply. She knew that there was nothing she could say and besides, part of her understood how Ziva felt. When you killed another human being, she had found that it didn't actually matter what that person had done, or hadn't done. It didn't matter that you were following orders, or trying to save the lives of others. Jenny had been fortunate. There had been very few occasions on which she had been forced to shoot to kill. But, each time, it had made her feel a tiny bit sick. A tiny bit dirty. And a tiny bit less human.

 

She knew that Ziva had not been so lucky.

 

Reaching out a hand, she tilted Ziva's chin so that she could look into her eyes, but found that the words for what she wanted to say wouldn't come to her. _I love you, and I want you, whatever you've done and whatever you've had to do, and I will love you enough for both of us until you can love yourself again_.

 

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed her.

 

She hadn't meant for it to become so deep, so heated, so quickly. But she didn't protest when she felt Ziva take her hand and shift from her crouching position, breaking the kiss as she stood up and tugged gently, indicating for Jenny to do the same. She didn't say a word as she allowed Ziva to lead her upstairs and into the bathroom, and didn't even speak when Ziva switched on the shower before turning back to her, dark eyes almost black with emotion. Desire. Love. Elements of relief, and disbelief, and wonder that they were here at all. And an intense need that took Jenny's breath away.

 

Silently, she slipped out of her shoes and let Ziva push her coat from her shoulders - she had not realised that she was still wearing it over her trouser suit. She allowed the Israeli to slowly undress her, taking her time, the running water masking the sound of their quickening breathing and the sharp sigh that escaped Jenny when Ziva's hand brushed against her hip. Ziva's fingers were shaking slightly as she undid Jenny's blouse, but Jenny didn't help her. She wanted Ziva to do this, and she knew that Ziva needed to. And she knew why, when she was fully naked, Ziva took a small step backwards. She didn't kiss her, or touch her.

 

The physical sensations and the emotions together were almost too much.

 

Jenny tentatively reached out, her hands taking the bottom of Ziva's jumper, and she watched as Ziva closed her eyes. The other woman didn't resist as Jenny mimicked her actions from a moment ago, taking off her cargo pants, her bra, her panties, her movements unhurried, deliberate. She could see Ziva's chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid rhythm and, as she finally allowed herself to feel Ziva, to touch her, to trail a finger down the line of her breast and stomach to the dark curls nestled in between her thighs, she felt a sharp jolt of arousal in between her own legs that made her gasp.

 

The sound made Ziva's eyes snap open, and, as Jenny let her hand drop back to her side, she stepped away and under the shower. Jenny didn't hesitate in following. Under the hot water, the bathroom now filled with moist clouds of steam, her fingers covered every inch of Ziva as she slowly massaged shampoo into her long, dark hair, and gently rubbed scented soap over every part of her body. She felt the solid muscles of Ziva's arms and back, the softness of her breasts, the sharp bud of her nipples that hardened under Jenny's touch, the curve of her legs and hips. Running a hand up the inside of Ziva's thigh, Jenny could feel her trembling, and heard her cry out softly as a finger lightly brushed her folds.

 

She was wet.

 

Even under the shower, Jenny could feel her heat and her dampness, and her breath quickened as she felt her own arousal become more intense. Taking hold of Ziva's hips, she pulled her forwards slightly, out from under the water, and used her knee to gently part her legs as she lowered her mouth to Ziva's nipple, flicking and sucking and grazing the dark pink bud with her teeth. She heard Ziva moaning, and felt her brace herself against the tiled wall as Jenny's head dropped further. Slowly, Jenny knelt down, her lips running down Ziva's stomach until there was nowhere left to go, except.......

 

She heard Ziva cry out again as, without warning, she gave her swollen, throbbing core a hard, quick flick with her tongue, before gently parting her folds properly with her fingers and doing the same thing again. She loved doing this, loved the taste of Ziva, and the feel of her against her lips. But she had never felt the other woman so hard, so wet, so aroused as she was this time, and Jenny wanted more. Moving her hand back, she moaned in satisfaction against Ziva as she slipped two fingers inside and felt the heat contract around her, felt Ziva arch into her as her tongue and lips began to kiss and lick and stroke the most sensitive part of her body. Gradually, her fingers picked up speed, curving and pushing deeper and deeper, greedily exploring as if this was the first and last chance she would ever get to be this close, and she relished the way Ziva responded. The way her breath was coming in hard, ragged gasps as she gave in to the overwhelming desire and ran one hand through Jenny's hair, pushing down onto her fingers and her mouth, needing more all the time.

 

And Jenny gave it to her. This was as much for her pleasure as for Ziva's release, and she wanted every last little bit that she could get.

 

She continued gently caressing Ziva with her tongue long after that release had come, soothing her down gently from the intense high that they had reached and feeling each tiny little aftershock in the most intimate way possible. She heard Ziva's moan of protest as she slid her fingers from inside her, and moved her hands to rest on Ziva's hips, holding her steady, and she felt Ziva's hands come down to cover hers, entwining their fingers and gently squeezing as she rested her head against Ziva's stomach. Kissing the warm skin, wet from the shower that was still running, Jenny could still feel her pulse beating through her body, hard and strong, fundamental proof that Ziva really was still here, with her, and close to her.

 

At that moment, that was all that mattered.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

'Well, I'm all yours today'.

 

Jenny walked back into the bedroom, a silk robe wrapped around her and her bare feet padding on the thick carpet, and settled herself back on one side of the bed before leaning over to the smiling, dark haired woman who was still half-buried and sleepy under the covers.

 

Ziva. In her bed.

 

Jenny knew that she would never take that for granted again.

 

And, despite appearances to the contrary, Ziva's reaction to Jenny's lips indicated that she was actually wide awake. But it wasn't until they finally pulled apart, several moments later, that she pulled herself up into a sitting position and looked at Jenny quizzically.

 

'All mine?'

 

Jenny shrugged.

 

'I called in sick'.

 

She didn't say that she had actually called Decker, who had answered the phone with a cheery greeting of _'So what would you like? Flu, laryngitis or women's problems?_ ' Having instructed him that she wanted nothing more serious or embarrassing than a bout of food poisoning, she had left it to him to tell Morrow that she would be out for the next couple of days. At least.

 

Ziva picked up on her smirk.

 

'Really? And how long is this.......illness going to last?'

 

'Food poisoning can take a few days to shift completely'.

 

'It certainly can'.

 

Ziva's fingers began playing with the tie on Jenny's robe.

 

'So if you have called in sick, why did you wake me up so early?'

 

Jenny raised her eyebrows, looking pointedly down at the robe that was now being pushed off her shoulders.

 

'You were awake anyway. And besides.......' She broke off as Ziva pulled her down for another kiss. 'I figured we now have all day to sleep'.

 

* * *

 

 

'Ziva?'

 

'Umm-hmm?'

 

'What do you want to do?'

 

They were still in bed, and Jenny had no idea what the time was. She didn't care. Their heated, passionate lovemaking of earlier had gradually given way first to slower teasing, exploring, touching, and then to a contented lull as they lay silently side by side. Jenny felt properly relaxed for the first time in days, satisfied and full and happy, and far too lazy to move.

 

They did, however, need to talk. Ziva had said that she wanted to stay, and Jenny believed her. More than anything, she wanted Ziva with her. All the time. Forever. And she would do anything to make that happen.

 

Ziva propped herself up on one elbow, her dark curls falling around her shoulders as she looked down at Jenny. The question had made her smile.

 

'This'.

 

She leaned down and pressed her lips to Jenny's again.

 

'And this'.

 

Hr lips moved downwards to cover a nipple, and Jenny gave a soft moan. That wasn't what she had meant, and Ziva knew it.

 

'And this'.

 

One finger lazily traced a line down Jenny's ribs, lightly enough to make her wriggle as it glided over a particularly ticklish spot.

 

'That wasn't......'

 

Jenny didn't get the chance to finish before Ziva's finger moved somewhere else entirely.

 

'And this'.

 

Jenny closed her eyes, and it was a few moments before she summoned up the will to reply.

 

'That wasn't what I meant. I wasn't talking about now, I was talking about.....'

 

'I know'.

 

Jenny opened her eyes.

 

'So?'

 

Ziva slowly pulled her hand back and gave Jenny a quick, hard kiss before lying back down on her back with a sigh.

 

'I do not know'. She paused. 'My resignation is effective immediately. I have some savings, and they gave me the standard six months on my visa'.

 

'And after that?'

 

Ziva turned her face to Jenny, her brown eyes pleading.

 

'Do we really have to have this conversation now?'

 

'Yes'. Jenny reached out and brushed Ziva's hair back from her forehead. 'Because I don't want to spend the next six months worrying about what's going to happen when your visa expires'.

 

'And my savings run out'.

 

'Money's not a problem, Ziva'.

 

'I do not want you to have to keep me, Jen'.

 

'I know. But that doesn't worry me. My main concern at the moment is that eventually you'll have to leave. And I don't want you to'. She took a deep breath. 'When I said I want you to stay, I meant......well, I meant it. For as long as you want'.

 

She couldn't quite bring herself to say 'forever' but, as a smile crossed Ziva's face, she knew that the Israeli had got the general idea.

 

'I suppose I have been thinking about it too', she admitted quietly. 'I always wondered what it would be like to have a.....well, a normal job. And since I first thought about leaving Mossad, I have been thinking about it a lot more'.

 

'And?'

 

It was Ziva's turn to take a deep breath.

 

'Promise me you will not laugh?'

 

Jenny wrinkled her brow, wondering what on earth Ziva had been thinking of doing.

 

'I would never do that'.

 

Ziva's voice was hesitant as she explained. 'I have thought of training to become a doctor. Trauma, emergency response, field medicine. That kind of thing'.

 

Jenny knew that she looked amazed, but she couldn't help it, even as Ziva's expression grew worried.

 

'You look surprised'. She looked closely at Jenny's face. 'And you promised not to laugh'.

 

'I am surprised'. Jenny's smile widened. 'But I'm definitely not laughing - why did you think I would? It's great!'

 

Ziva shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed.

 

'It is very different. I have never been to college. And the idea of a trained killer suddenly wanting to save lives instead of taking them.....'

 

Jenny shook her head. For all the confidence and assurance that Ziva projected, she really didn't think much of herself at all.

 

'No, look at me'. She waited until Ziva had complied before continuing. 'You are the most caring person I know. And also the smartest'. She saw Ziva's disbelieving look. 'Really'.

 

'I do not think so'.

 

'Well, I do', Jenny confirmed. 'As I said, I'm just surprised. It's hardly the normal job that you were just talking about'.

 

In truth, she was relieved. The idea of Ziva leaving Mossad for a 'normal' nine-to-five office job had worried her - she knew Ziva well enough by now to know that she would have been bored and frustrated within a week.

 

Ziva finally returned her smile.

 

'It is all relative'.

 

Jenny did laugh at that. Compared to Mossad, emergency medicine probably would seem like a fairly sedate line of work. At least to start with.

 

'True'.

 

Ziva became serious again as she searched Jenny's face, her next words slightly hesitant.

 

'I had thought about maybe applying here, to George Washington. I would need to do a pre-med program first, but I have looked into it and they run them on campus for.....'

 

She broke off at the delighted, but slightly incredulous look that Jenny was giving her.

 

'What?'

 

'Nothing'. Jenny shook her head, but she was unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. 'Just happy, that's all. You kept all this so quiet - I didn't realise that you had already looked into it'.

 

She didn't add that she had been fully prepared to have to talk Ziva into looking at options that would enable her to stay. She didn't say that a tiny part of her had been terrified that, the longer they left it, the more likely it would be that Ziva would change her mind and that Jenny would then have to let her go all over again.

 

But, it seemed, she didn't have to. Something in Ziva's face told her that she understood.

 

'Well, as I said, I have been thinking about it for a long time. It is something that I want to do'. Her voice was soft, gentle, as she reached up and touched Jenny's cheek, but she looked slightly shy as she continued. 'I was only reluctant to talk about it now because.....well. I was not sure how you would react. And it feels a little strange to think about not being part of Mossad anymore. Talking about it makes it seem very real'.

 

'Ziva....'

 

'And that is a good thing'. Ziva placed a finger lightly over Jenny's lips. 'I want to be with you. I just was not sure that you wanted me. But I was actually doing some research yesterday, before.....everything else. I had thought that maybe if I got a place, then my savings would cover accommodation on campus while I tried to........'

 

Jenny knew what she had been about to say. _While I tried to make things right with you_. But she didn't need, or want, to hear any more, and she cut Ziva off with a hard, fierce kiss.

 

'Don't you dare'. When Ziva opened her mouth to speak, she kissed her again. 'I want you here'.

 

'I know that now'.

 

'Good'.

 

'It will mean being a student for quite a while'. Ziva half-smiled, half-grimaced at the thought, before becoming serious again. 'Which means that I will not be earning'.

 

Once more, Jenny shook her head.

 

'I told you, that doesn't matter'. And she meant it. Money was the least of her worries, since she had plenty of it sitting in the bank - her inheritance from her father that, so far, hadn't done anything useful. She would have to figure out a way of using some of it for Ziva without the other woman realising.

 

'But it does mean that I will be able to apply for training posts and jobs here if I graduate'.

 

'After you graduate'. Jenny corrected her firmly, since she had no doubt that Ziva would be fantastic as a doctor. And she knew by now that, when Ziva really wanted something, she would put everything into it and not take no for an answer. This wouldn't be any different - and she could tell that, despite the lack of self confidence, Ziva really did want this.

 

'Which also means that I can stay for......'. Ziva paused, and smiled. 'For as long as you want me'.

 

This time Jenny did not let it hang in the air. She needed to hear Ziva say that she felt as full of love, and hope, and trust as Jenny did at that moment. Hope for the future that they were talking about, and trust that they could make it work.

 

'Forever?'

 

Ziva's face broke into a wide smile as she nodded slowly.

 

'Forever'.

 

Jenny didn't think that one simple word had ever sounded so perfect.

 

 


End file.
